


October

by Vonnelise



Series: Prepatory [1]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, F/M, Manipulation, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vonnelise/pseuds/Vonnelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snippy sixteen-year-old is left in a house by her parents with a behavioral expert who has promised to fix her with his "methods".</p>
            </blockquote>





	October

Neither of them has talked to me in a week. My parents, I mean. Ever since they walked in on me giving Jimmy Owens a blowjob. We’ve been to different behavioral institutions for the past year to see if they’d take me. Some have, some haven’t. I’m a hazard, as some of them have put it. I just shrug my shoulders; I just like to have fun. My parents don’t talk to me directly, but they sure as hell love talking to the headmasters about me.

This is the fifteenth facility we’ve been to in twelve months. Colorado is where we end up. Cool place, as much as I can see. The house is up in the mountains, surrounded by trees and plains. If I do end up here, I wouldn’t mind it. It’s just a few miles from the city, but it would be a challenge to try and sneak out. It’s big, ginormous, huge. Bricks, glass, and light. That’s what the house seems to be made out of. Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t have a problem with living here. 

“This shit’s hot,” I say when we get out of the car, admiring the place. Mom and Dad both fix me with an eye roll before starting the trek up to the front door. I can finally fully take in the outside of the house properly. The house is white brick while the stairs leading up to the door are brown brick. There are little planted trees everywhere, and the trees seem to get bigger in the back yard. The large wooded door swifts open as soon as we touch the first step up. My eyes could not have prepared me for the man that is standing before me. He’s tall, about six-foot-five. His black suit matches his black hair that’s tied back in an extremely neat pony tail. His eyes are as emerald as they get. The man seems to be in his mid-thirties. 

I lick my lips. I’ve never been with an older man, but I’d love to try it now. “You all must be the Stocktons, come on in,” The man says with the brightest smile I’ve seen in years. His arm is outstretched pointing to the inside of the home. My parents shake the hand of the man as they step inside. I’m the last to step in and his smile falters a bit as he looks at me. Not really in a distasteful way, but in a kind of curious way. But his devastatingly bright smile is back on his face in a second. “Hello, Miss Harlow,” he whispers silently to me as he takes my hand in his. His hands are warm and smooth. 

How the hell does he already know my name? I snatch my hand back from his and walk into the house, next to my parents. “This is a nice place you have here, Mr. Callahan,” my Dad muses. I look to my right to find a large living room. I crane my neck to see if there’s a ceiling. And sure enough, after my neck can crane no more, are the ceilings. I look back down at the furniture. A long black, leather sofa with maroon pillows sit in front of the fire place where the flat screen T.V. rests. 

“Thank you, Mr. Stockton. I only want the best for my girls,” the man replies as he shuts the door. “Where are your girls, anyway?” I ask. The man looks at me for a second with an evaluating smile on his face. “Whenever I have potential students come, I send them all away to a resort not too far from here. Come, I’ll explain everything in my office,” he bristly passes us all and we follow him down the long wide hallway. As we walk, we pass by the kitchen (which is jaw dropping), a den, and a bathroom. He leads us all the way into the back of the house where he opens a door that leads to an office. Everything’s dark. Dark wood, dark furniture, dark book cases, dark books. My parents take the two black leather seats that sit in front of the cherry wood desk while Mr. Callahan sits in the chair behind the desk. I let out a snort and plop down on the couch on the side. “Would any of you like anything to drink?’ He asks. We all decline and wait for him to get down to business. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Stockton, we only talked a little on the phone. I’d like for you two to tell me more about the behavioral problem with Harlow,” when he says my name, his hand motions to me in a dismissive way that I cannot stand. What’s with this guy? 

“Well, it’s been going on for a while now. We thought that maybe she was going through a stage, but it’s gotten worse. She sneaks out, she parties, does drugs, skips school, been kicked out of school, and has been sexually active. We just don’t know what to do with her anymore. All other behavioral programs have denied her or they expelled her. We just don’t know what to do anymore. I snort and say, “I wouldn’t count giving blow jobs as being too sexually active… At least on my part.” My parents have perfected the art of ignoring me, but Mr. Callahan casts a look directly into my eyes. He has a smile on his face that only I can see from where his hands are covering his mouth in front of my parents.

“Do you have an idea of where she may have inherited this behavior?” The black-haired man asks. My parents put on their bewildered, victim face. They know exactly where I got it from. “We don’t know. We’ve done everything good parents would do. I just don’t know where we went wrong. Or if we went wrong at all,” my Mom says, she sounds as if she’s about to cry. Jesus, she’s really pulling out all the stops tonight. 

 

“Mrs. Stockton, no need to cry. Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of this and help your daughter,” the guy says as he hands my mother a handkerchief. She takes it thankfully and blows her nose. I roll my eyes as I continue to pick my nails. “Not to be rude, but I like to talk to the students alone, to hear what they’re thinking. So if you two would ever be so kind to move into the sitting area outside for a moment.” I just notice that he has an accent. A Southern accent. Texas or Louisiana, maybe. My parents pick themselves up and go into the hallway. Callahan shuts the door after them, and then turns to me. “Harlow, would you like to take a seat at my desk?” He asks. 

I look up at him from my nails, then go and sit at the chair my Dad was just sitting in. I hear his footsteps behind me as he walks my way. Surprisingly, he takes the seat next to me, instead of the one behind the desk. “Hello, Harlow. I’m Leo Callahan. How are you?” He asks with that gorgeous smile on his face. “Fine,” I snap. He lets out a small chuckle. 

“That’s great. Would you like to tell me in your own words why your parents brought you to me?” Another surprise from our guy Callahan. None of the other people from past programs or boarding schools have ever asked me that question. I hide my astonishment, and answer the question. “They summed it up pretty well, don’t you think?” I ask. He does that annoying little chuckle again. “Nothing you’d like to add?” Callahan presses when he’s done with his laugh. I shrug my shoulders. “I wouldn’t count weed as a hardcore drug as they like to make it seem.” Callahan agrees. “I wouldn’t either, but it is counted as a gateway drug.” I snort at that as I look out the wide window and out into the mountains. “I’m not counting on doing any other drugs. I have shit to do later on in life.” 

“Like what?” He asks. My head snaps over to him. Is this guy mocking me? “Are you mocking me? You don’t think I have things planned for myself?” Callahan holds up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything like that. I actually want to know,” he explains. I narrow my eyes at him, but when I see that he’s not about to pop out a smile, I continue. “I want to go to school for photography,” I tell him. His eyes light up at that.

“Interesting. I’ve dabbled in photography a bit myself.” I quirk an eyebrow at him. “Really?” I ask. He nods his head and reaches for something on his desk. A leather bound portfolio is in his hands. He flips to the first page where a man on his snowboard is in midair with the sun and trees behind him Callahan flips to the next page where an old rocking chair is sitting on the porch in black and white. There seems to be a white almost ghostly figure wisping by the chair. I point at it.

“What’s that?” I ask. That smile is back on his face. “Good eye, not that many people catch on to that. I took this when I was back in my home state of Louisiana. Visited an old back road house that’s been abandoned since the 1800’s. It’s said that spirits still roam freely there, so I had to take a few pictures,” he explains.

Cool, but I don’t want him to get any ideas that I’m falling for his little trick. He finds something I like and thinks we’re going to connect like that, and then soon he finds the root of all my “problems”. I’ve been poked and prodded at for too long to not know the signs. 

“You live here?” I ask, “Or just work here?” Callahan closes the portfolio when he notices that I’m through with the subject. “Both,” he answers. “How many rooms?” “Eight bedrooms and seven bathrooms.” I nod my head. Impressive. “So what’s your method in teaching me how to be a good girl?” I purr while I push up my chest and lean toward him. His eyes descend down to my half exposed breasts, before they go back up to my face and he leans back to the other side of his chair. Denied. And for the first time in my life. Kinda hurts.

“I’m not going to tell you step-by-step on what I’m going to do because then you’d know all my tricks. But I can tell you this much, I’m not like all the other behavioral experts you’ve been to.” That catches my attention.

“And how so?” I ask. He huffs out a chuckle for some reason. “My methods are different. Don’t worry, if your parents pick to send you here, you’ll find out as soon as later today.” “That confident, huh?” I say. He nods his head. “That confident.”

By the time we’ve taken a tour of the whole house, I can see that my parents are sold on the idea of leaving me here. And I’m not that opposed to the idea, either. With the pool that over looks the woody forest and the mountains, and the gigantic bedrooms; this place seems like more of a resort than anything. 

We go back into Callahan’s office to sign the papers. My parents have signed me up for thirteen months. No contact with them except for letters. That’s fine with me; I don’t like being by them anyway. 

My bags are in the car’s trunk, and my dad and Callahan go outside to get my suitcases, while my Mom and I are on the front porch. “I hope you’re happy,” I tell her. “I am. Because I finally feel as if you’ll get the help that you deserve with being here. That’s all we ever wanted for you, Harlow,” she says. I roll my eyes.

“Whatever. I can do it. We’ve been separate way longer than thirteen months in the past, now haven’t we mommy?” My comment ends the whole conversation. I know it does when I hear her sniff back the tears. Great, just in time for the men to get back here with my stuff. They drop my bags off into the foyer. “Lots of stuff, Harlow,” Dad says as he cracks his back.

“Yeah well, when you live like me, not knowing where your next shelter will be, you have to pack responsibly,” I snap back. Dad purses his lips. “Your daughter will be in great hands, Mr. and Mrs. Stockton, I assure you. The next time you see Harlow, she’ll be a fine citizen of society,” Callahan pounces in. Yeah, yeah whatever. 

My parents give me an awkward kiss good-bye before leaving. Callahan shuts the door after them and I can finally breathe easy. I turn and make my way to the leather sofa in the living room and plop down. “So, when do the girls get back?” I ask. There’s a pause before I hear his footsteps again. “There aren’t any other girls,” he says in a normal conversational voice. What?

“What do you mean there aren’t any other girls?” I ask. A smirk crosses his face. “What I mean, is that there are no other girls here but you. You’re the only girl in the program. My methods are only for one student at a time and no more,” he says as he takes a seat in the leather chair. My heart is racing at this point. And this is the person my parents have left me with for thirteen months?!

“Th-then why did you say that the girls were at a resort?” I ask. He looks at me as if I just asked the most stupid question in the world. “Because no one would leave their teenage daughter in a house with a grown man for an x amount of time by herself. I had to think of something, Harlow. Trust me, my methods work.” He mentioned that before. 

“What exactly are your methods, Leo?” I ask. That smirk is back on his face. He leans back in his chair with his legs spread wide open. The bulge between them is poking out heavily. My eyes drop right to it. “What do you like to do sexually, Harlow?” He asks. I lick my lips before answering.   
“I like to give head more than anything.” “And why is that?” He asks. I need to get back some control from this conversation. “What does it matter to you?” His lips quirk up at my remark. “Just asking. It’s not pleasing to the girl.” I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah, well. It’s all about control.” A frown appears on his face. “How do you mean?” I let out a huff of laughter. “Believe me; giving head is the best way to get men to do what you want.” His eyebrow cocks in interest. I continue. “That’s like the best thing you can do physically for a man, and they will do anything to get that feeling back over, and over, and over again. It’s science, really.” 

Callahan inconspicuously fixes the bulge in his pants. “I don’t necessarily think that’s true,” he says in an almost whisper. That sparks my interest. “And why do you think that?” I ask. He shrugs his left shoulder nonchalantly. “Because of the way I run the blowjob,” he senses my confusion and continues. “I take control. The woman hardly has a choice, other than to hold her mouth open and swallow.” Shivers run down my spine at his words. 

“Things are done my way when I’m doing it,” I boast. His legs spread wider and he sits up, staring right at me. “Then prove it.” My mouth is hanging open. I mean, I guess I should’ve guessed where this was going, but I can’t help but be surprised by his forwardness. But none the less, I slide to the floor, and crawl over to him. I stop right between his legs and am about to unzip his pants when he brushes my hands aside. 

“No, you don’t get the prize after doing nothing. First, you have to suck on these before you get my dick,” Callahan says as he slides down his zipper. He digs into his boxers until his big round balls pop out. My eyes widen. I’ve done it before, but not this early in the game. And I’ve never seen any that big. Well, I have just been working on boys my own age. That reminds me, I have to ask this man how old he is later.

I lean forward and give them an experimental lick. They taste clean, like skin. After I confirm that they’re clean, I lap them up in my saliva before sucking one into my mouth. Just one is in my mouth and it’s already filling me. I slick up the left one to get it in my mouth and it works. Right when I suck both of them in, I hear a gasp from above. My eyes flicker up to Callahan who’s looking right at me. There’s no mocking smirk there, nor a frown. Just a concentrated stare. 

I suck on his balls as if they’re going to give me something. They feel heavy and right in my mouth. “That’s good, that’s good. Now you can have your prize,” Callahan says as he hurriedly pulls his cock out. It’s long, thick, and red at the tip. Pre-cum drips from it constantly. When his balls squish out of my mouth, a loud *pop* fills the air and we both groan at it. I lick a stripe from his balls all the way up to the tip. My hand grasps the base of it while I lick the slit, trying to get all of his juice onto my tongue. His breath heightens, but he settles back into the chair. 

When I feel ready, I engulf the head into my mouth, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever had. All I can taste, all I can feel, all I can see is Callahan, and it’s pretty intoxicating. I take more into my mouth, and the half that cannot fit, I just stroke. The slicker my mouth and his dick gets, the louder the noise gets. The sounds that are coming from this beautiful house are nasty and sloppy, and I love it. His moans are getting louder. 

“Your mouth should be used just for this. Just for sucking my cock. That’s all you can really do with this mouth, isn’t it?” He groans. If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from giving head for so long is that if they’re still making fully understandable sentences, then you’re not doing it right. I garble up more saliva to make the strokes easier, stroke him harder, and suck a little more fiercely. A low, choked out moan escapes from Callahan’s mouth. That’s more like it. 

The taste of pre-cum is getting more and more to the front. He’s getting close. I swallow as much as I can before I can choke on it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Leo moans over and over again. I slide my hand down to my skirt and lift it up to get under my panties. A moan also escapes me when I start to rub my clit. “Y-you’re ge-gettin’ off on this?” He asks between moans. His accent comes out more with the less fucks he gives. I hum my answer which seems to be enough for him. 

All of a sudden, Callahan grabs the back of my head to keep me in place as he stands up. I continue to suckle as he gets into stands. He lightly yanks on my hair to make me let go. It doesn’t really work at first, because I want to continue to suck. But soon the yanks start to sting and I let go. “What the hell?” I pant as our eyes meet each other. A smirk is on his face as he starts to quickly stroke himself. “Open your mouth, stick out your tongue,” he commands. His idea just slid over to my brain, and I do as I’m told. 

He lays his cock head on the tip of my tongue as he gets closer and closer to his release. I make myself useful by licking the underside of his dick. He starts to buck and says, “’Bouta cum on your tongue!” A few seconds later, Callahan releases a never-ending moan as he spurts globs and globs of come onto my tongue. Most of it lands on my tongue, but some ends up on my lips and cheeks. He continues to stroke until there’s nothing left, not even drops. When he’s done coming, he takes in deep gulps of breaths as he slaps his cock on my messy tongue. The room fills with the wet smacking sounds. 

“Oh, fuck, Harlow. You’re really good at that. Never has a girl your age made me come like that. And all over that cute. Pink. Tongue.” He emphasis every word with a loud smack of his dick on tongue. I keep eye contact as I take one last lick of his dick, before dipping my tongue back into my mouth, and swallowing with my mouth open, just for him to see.

“Damn, girl. I can’t get hard that fast,” Callahan protests as he tucks himself back in. I smirk and rise back onto my feet. “Told you you’d like it,” I gloat. He nods his head, rolling his eyes a bit. “Yeah, yeah, you passed,” he mumbles. My lips turn into a pout. “I passed what?” I ask. “The test. That was all a test. I found out one of the things that you like doing the most and made you prove it to me. To see if you have a self-esteem issue or not.” I don’t follow, but my anger is rising. “What?” I seethe.

“People with low self-esteem always feel as if they have to prove something to everyone. Like how you felt that you had to prove something as small as your dick-sucking skills to me. We’ll work on more of this as we go along the days, come now,” Callahan explains as he walks out of the living room and on to another subject. My eyes follow him, but my feet do not. I wish that I felt that I was in some kind of danger, but I don’t. That maybe shows how much I’m screwed up in the head. Whatever that’s going to happen over these next thirteen months, I think I’m going to like them and hate them at the same time.


End file.
